


Every breath is a second chance

by Amie33



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/pseuds/Amie33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She would recognize that voice anywhere, even after all the years - she begins to count, how long has it been? Eleven, no, maybe twelve years now - yes, twelve years. Sometimes it’s like she hasn’t stopped seeing him, watching him on television and reading the papers, following his career from afar; and sometimes, so many things have changed, it’s like it’s been centuries...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every breath is a second chance

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. But if you have read the tags and the warnings and you're still here to read the fic, thank you.  
> The story was *a bit* inspired by the end of Roslin/Adama relationship on BSG and don't ask me why but Muse decided to change it into a mattex.  
> Huge thanks to Jenn who beta'd, and had to deal with my extreme lack of confidence about that fic.

**_Every breath is a second chance_ **

The door rings and Alex barely pays attention as Salome crosses the hallway. From where she sits she can hear the key turning in the lock and the old door creaking as it opens - it’d been doing that for year, and whatever they tried to make it stop, it never worked. Months ago they gave in, when things happened and the noisy door suddenly didn’t feel important anymore. Now, when Alex things about it, she realizes she would miss that sound if it disappeared.

There is a moment when there’s nothing coming from the hallway, and the silence is unusual. Alex tries to crane her neck to see what’s happening but it’s useless, she’s too far away from the door and from where she is, she only has a view to a bit of the wallpaper, and the hem of Salome’s skirt.

“Oh my...” she finally hears Salome breathing out, and Alex is even more curious to know who stands at the other side of that door. It’s clearly not the postman, or one of the doctor and nurses that keep coming recently, it’s not even one of those creepy journalists that don’t stop harassing them since they knew about her illness. The sound of Salome’s voice seems to indicate that she knows her visitor and is surprised to see him, her, or them. Alex begins a list of people, friends or family or colleagues, but she doesn’t understand why any of them would be here right now...

“I think _Hello poppet_ would be a bit outdated now. Look at you, all grown-up!”

She would recognize that voice anywhere, even after all the years - she begins to count, how long has it been? Eleven, no, maybe twelve years now - yes, twelve years. Sometimes it’s like she hasn’t stopped seeing him, watching him on television and reading the papers, following his career from afar; and sometimes, so many things have changed, it’s like it’s been centuries...

“Matty!”

She can hear the pet name Salome has always used for him, and Alex feels like they are back in the past. Salome’s skirt disappeared from her vision as she might have jumped into Matt’s arms. If she closes her eyes, she can imagine her daughter is still a young girl, with a ponytail and a pink dress, stealing sweets from Matt as they laugh. It’s clear in her head, and the picture echoes with Salome’s laughter coming from the door. It would be perfect, like nothing had changed, if Alex wasn’t there, stuck in that chair and...

She shook her head, refusing to thing about that as she can hear the cracking of the door while it’s closed, and footsteps come closer to her. She turns her head from the hallway and blinks a few times to be sure she isn’t crying. Then she grabs the arm-rest and pushes up, forcing her weak muscles to contract as she stands - she can hear Salome coming and protesting but she doesn’t care, she’s tired of being tired and being incapable of doing nothing, tired of being told what she can and can’t do, and if she’s honest the second list is far longer than the first.

Eventually Salome is on her in a second, and she’s glad she doesn’t force her to sit down, but help her to stay on her feet. Alex glances at her daughter, her eyes saying a silent thanks, and Salome just nods. She has always known what her mother wants, and what her mother needs, and even if she knows the doctors wouldn’t agree that she stands there, she also knows it’s important for her.

When Salome’s grip is enough and she’s sure she won’t fall back, Alex finally looks up from her treacherous wobbling legs and here he is, for the first time in twelve years, smiling at her like nothing has changed.

“Hello Kingston,” he says, and she can hear it trembling a bit despite his general confidence.

“Hello.” She can’t help but smile back, despite the pain, despite her trembling members, despite the emotion, because he’s here, because he’s coming closer, because his hand is on her arm, warm and strong. When he bends to kiss her, she closes her eyes and for an instant she remembers all the times he kissed her in the past, as a colleague, as a friend, as her onscreen husband. She remembers the taste of his lips on her lips, and she imagines maybe he can kiss her like this, now. She thinks she would be happy if he did, she thinks she would just sigh and give him her last breath and it would be perfect. Except he doesn’t, he kisses her on the cheek, maybe a bit longer than necessary, and then pulls back and the magic is gone.

“What do you think if we sit down, now?” he says, still grabbing her arm and she shouldn’t but she’s aware of the way his fingers curl around her arm and how his skin seems warm across the cloth of her shirt and against her so cold skin. She would do anything he wants if he just can touch her a little more.

She nods and executes, exhausted by this little effort. She can see Matt glancing at Salome and she perfectly imagines the look on her face, and maybe she even breaths out a silent thank you. Usually it would get her mad, all this attention and people treating her like she can’t do anything by her own (even if they’re right, because she really can’t), but today she won’t. Today Matt is here, and everything is different.

x.

Salome leaves them alone after a few minutes, and Matt watches her as she disappears from the room while Alex stares as him carefully. She tries to remember how he was twelve years ago, and notes the difference between now and then. There is the hair, it might be the most obvious difference and it’s hard not to notice it - the few grey hairs he was complaining about have finally invaded almost his whole scalp. He doesn’t look old though, just more... mature. There are also some creases on his face, around his eyes. And there is the suit, of course, neat and well cut, maybe tailor made, and she can’t but wonder how much he has paid for it. It has nothing to do with the extravagant clothes he wore before.

“She’s beautiful.” Alex is so lost in her thoughts that she barely hears him, and it takes her a second to realize he is talking about Salome. “How old is she now? Twenty two, twenty-three?”

“Twenty-five,” she replies and sighs. Her girl is still young, and she shouldn’t be there taking care about her sick mother. She should be outside, enjoying her youth, attending parties, flirting with boys. Alex has told her, more than once, but she doesn’t want to hear. Even if she’s glad her daughter is by her side, she hopes she won’t regret it, after.

“She’s a beautiful woman. Almost as beautiful as you are.”

Alex winces at the compliment. “As I _was_. Now I’m nothing but an old sick woman.”

“You’re not, Kingston.”

“I am,” - and it hurts, she thinks. But then Matt bends over, and she can see in his determinate eyes that he is not only flattering her, or lying to her like other people do, hoping it will cheer her up. Not, she knows he really believes what he says.

“No,” he whispers, “You still are. Even...” He doesn’t finish the sentence but Alex knows what he is alluding to. Even like that, even ill, even dying. And she doesn’t understand how he can still look at her with fascination, like she is a sexy twenty-year-old girl. She didn’t understand years ago, and she still doesn’t.

He shakes his head, and Alex doesn’t know if it’s to highlight the fact that he thinks she’s wrong, or if he simply rejects to think about what is going to happen to her soon. “Your hair is still the same.” He smiles and approaches, tugging one of her curls between his fingers and looking at it bounces back in place. He used to do that, in the past, and for a moment she forgets about the years that separate them from and it’s like he has never left her life. “Look at mine, all grey now!”

He pulls back in his seat and winces, running his hand through his hair and tugging a strand in front of his eyes, checking that it haven’t turned back a bright chestnut color since the last time he has seen it. Alex smiles at the movement, and something in Matt’s eyes shines as she does, and she understands it was the point - making her laugh, hoping she would forget her issues for a moment, and she’s grateful to him.

“It’s wonderful darling,” the term of endearment comes back instantly, before she even can think about it, “I read the paper and I watch the telly. People love you like that.”

“I don’t understand why...”

She tilts her head, staring at his face carefully. “I think... It makes you more serious, even sexier. I bet girls love that.”

She winks at him but he does seem more serious suddenly. “Do you?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate, breathing the words out and there’s almost that tone in her voice, the one she was using with him, on set or even off set... She remembers the flirt, and how they played with their roles, always close to the border line between game and reality. And it feels good, and it hurts, because they were also playing with what they were and what they felt, knowing they would never make what they both wanted concrete. Twelve years later and she wonders why she was so afraid about that and never took the chance.

He smiles at her answer, arranging her tie and she doesn’t sure if she almost imagines the following exchange.

_“How do I look?”_

_“Amazing.”_

She knows he remembers the same words and it’s enough, they don’t have to be said.

x.

They talk together for what seems seconds but which are in fact hours. He tells her about his career, even if she does already know most of it. He explains her why he chose some roles, why he turned down others. He tells her about the United States, the people he has met there, the chance he had. He adds he’s a bit tired of that now, that he’s looking for something else, stage maybe.

She listens to him, and gives her opinion when he asks, even if she doesn’t understand what he asks it for. She feels completely outdated, and she doubts anybody would have wanted her now, even if she was in good health. But he asks so she answers, and she talks about her time, her mistakes, she talks about her dreams and she had been lucky to fulfill most of them - she even had things she would have never hoped. It’s good to remember, and it’s good to share those memories with him.

She’s grateful he doesn’t ask about her health, but makes her talk about her Salome instead, and her house, and she’s happy to tell him about what she has here. It’s a big property in the middle of the country-side, typically British, with hectares of land. She has a few animals, dogs of course and cats, but also hens and even a horse. She promises they’ll visit the whole thing later, if he has the time of course, and he accepts it with a smile.

After midday Salome comes back, inviting Matt to have lunch with them. “With pleasure.” He helps Alex to get up despite her protests and Salome’s, but he insists and he knows they can’t deny him anything - they couldn’t in the past, and he still has that way to ask things nobody can resist. So they let him, and Alex has to admit it feels good to have him against her, his arm around her waist for support, and she can feel his heart beating inside his chest where he presses her, and she can smell his cologne and a bit of aftershave - there are not the same as twelve years ago but it feels good, and she wants nothing but to stay here for the rest of her life.

He drags her to the lunch-room, step by step, walking at her own rhythm and careful she doesn’t gets hurt, doesn’t get breathless. Usually she doesn’t like that, doesn’t want people to wait for her and she just clenches her teeth and holds her breath and hides her pain. But Matt... She doesn’t wants to hide him anything, not now. They already had enough of unsaid words, and they pretended too many times in their lives, about their relationship and their feelings, to keep lying. If she knows there are things they won’t have anymore, at least she wants to be honest with him.

They finally reach the table, and she murmurs a thank you while he helps her to sit down and takes a seat next to her. Salome smiles at them, and Alex can’t help but think again how the life of her daughter might be, and how she doesn’t do anything to help her. She wonders if she feels a bit jealous that she is so easy with Matt or if she understands. She believes her daughter has always known, maybe from the beginning, even if she is too respectful to say anything.

The lunch is pleasant, but a struggle for Alex. It’s like her knife and fork weigh a ton and she feels exhausted just to eat. At least she can still eat on her own, even if it’s so difficult. It’s one of the last things she can still do by herself and she intends to do it until the end. Of course, the way she eats is far from graceful.

When she drops her fork and splashes sauce all over, she can’t help but curse. She immediately blushes as she realizes the words that have just escaped her mouth, and feels a bit embarrassed and frustrated she can’t find enough strength to eat normally, especially today. But there is no pity in Matt’s eyes, as she was afraid. He just takes a napkin to wipe the stains on the table and smiles.

“There was that charity ball a few years ago, the dinner was marvellous. But you know me, don’t you? I was distracted and the whole plate landed on my suit and shirt.” He glances at her as she listens carefully, and she absolutely has no difficulty to imagine the scene. “What was even more embarrassing was the fact that I had to make a speech at the end, but here I was, covered by sauce from head to toe... I had to borrow pieces of clothes, the trousers from a friend, the tie from an other, and I don’t know what it was. I spent the whole talk scratching. I may have been allergic to the fabric, I ended up with red marks everywhere...”

Alex can’t help but laugh with him as he keeps telling about other incidents that happen to him during the last few years, forgetting everything about what has caused those sudden confessions. She vaguely notices Salome watching them, smiling, but focuses back on Matt instead. She will face her daughter’s later, when he is gone and they are all alone, again.

x.

After lunch is over they settle in the terrace. It’s sunny and warm, and Alex wants to take advantage of the weather while she still can. In a few weeks summer will be over, and then it will be rain and fog and cold, and she isn’t sure she will be there to see the next spring. Who knows how much time she has, weeks, months, more?

She lies on the chaise lounge while Matt sits on a basket chair next to her, and she almost instantly closes her eyes. She lets the sun warm her skin, and it’s like somehow it manages to bring some life back in her tired body. She sighs contentedly, humming every now and then as Matt speaks, and she doesn’t really understand what he says. After a few minutes she falls asleep.

When she opens her eyes again the sun is still high in the sky and bathing the terrace, but she can’t hear Matt’s voice anymore. She’s afraid for an instant that he must have left, but when she turns her head she can see he’s still here, bent over the local newspaper and reading silently. He doesn’t realize she’s awake and she takes that opportunity to look closely at him without being caught. She can’t help thinking he’s like the perfect _cliché_ of the forty-something-year-old British aristocrat, the kind of one she thought didn’t exist anymore. She wonders when the change has happened. Perfect tailored suit, perfect polished shoes, and the little glasses (she only regrets it’s not a pince-nez, it would have been even more perfect). Maybe the hair is still a bit of a mess, like it has always been, but without it it’s like he’s just come from an old movie. She imagines he’s reading the economics section of the newspaper, checking his securities... or maybe the sport section, the polo results or the cricket, and the picture is too much.

She laughs at her own thoughts and Matt bends his paper, smiling as he looks at her over his reading glasses. “Is there something funny?”

“No.” He frowns and she has no choice but change her answer with a sigh. “Yes, right. It’s not... I was just thinking that you have changed.”

“And it’s funny?” He sounds amused more than angry that she has just admitted she was laughing at him, and it amazes her than they can still be so honest with each other, even after all this time.

“Yes, it is. You... I would have never told that you will turn out that way.”

“What? A bloody brilliant actor?” He says, joking, and she laughs again.

“No, of course, you always have been. It’s just...I remember the creepy shirts and weird jackets and I’m not sure how you have moved from these to...” She motions at his suit. “... _that_.”

For a moment he seems serious, maybe a bit more than the situation requires. He folds up the newspaper and takes off his glasses, carefully putting them away in their case before answering her. “I’m not sure. Life I guess. I can’t deny that what I’ve done during those past few years have changed me. Maybe more than you think.”

He meets her gaze again, and there’s something in his eyes she can’t really define, sadness, nostalgia maybe, like he’s thinking about all the things that have changed since they haven’t seen each other. She knows she’s the cause of some changes, and for an instant she feels the weight of them on her heart. But a second after his look changes and he smiles again. “But _you,_ Kingston, youhaven’t changed, you still look like a hippie.”

“Oi!” She would have smacked him if he was closer, and if it didn’t feel so difficult to her. Instead she pouts and looks at her clothes, and she has to admit that, maybe, he is not completely wrong. She mumbles something about the fact that she hates him and he just keeps smiling, the answer predictable.

“No, you don’t,” he breathes out, and she shivers. They haven’t said those words for a long time, and it brings back memories - a game at first, the sentence had slowly become a way for them to avoid the truth, because they both thought it was better, but now she’s not sure it’s been the right decision.

Matt keeps smiling at her though, so she guesses she’s just wrong to think about the old things, and that maybe she should take what she has now and makes advantage of it. So she smiles back, and for a moment they say nothing, just sitting silently with their own thoughts.

“Didn’t you talk about hems and horses to see?” Matt finally asks after a while. “Maybe we should go before the sun goes down.” He motions at the shadow slowly creeping on the terrace, and she knows he’s right. If they stay here too long the evening will come before they even realize it, and it’s still fresh and cold here. She wants to take the time to show him everything and she won’t do it while freezing outside. So she agrees with him, and a few minutes later they’re gone, Alex in the wheelchair she now uses when she goes out, Matt pushing her despite her protests.

They walk in the garden and she talks about the flowers she has planted and the one she can’t anymore. She explains how the garden was completely abandoned when she purchased it years ago, how she has worked hard to change it in something beautiful again. She only regrets she can’t deal with it anymore and Salome is too busy with her to pay attention to the garden. She just hopes someone will be able to take care of it when she’s gone. Matt tenses a bit behind her as she talks about her impending death, and she realizes it’s the first time she mentions it since he’s been here. But he doesn’t say anything, asking for some plants he doesn’t know instead and she wonders if he does that for respect or because he doesn’t want to think about the inevitability.

After the garden they walk to the little building she has created for her poultry. He insists on feeding the hens and runs after the chicks, and she laughs as he misses them a few times. She also looks at his perfect suit being slowly covered by mud at the hem, and she thinks that maybe nothing has changed. After a few attempts he finally grabs one so he can hold it to her; they were born a few days ago and she hasn’t got the opportunity to hold them yet. It’s soft and warm against her hands, but it keeps chirping and finally escapes her hands. She stops Matt from running after it again, and instead they walk to the pasture, and he helps her to get to her feet so she can caress her horse. She hasn’t touched it for a long time and it’s good to feel its warmth against her hands again, with Matt’s body pressed against her own for support, his fingers holding her waist and his breath against her ear.

They reluctantly come back to the house at the end of the afternoon, when the sun begins to set and she feels cold. She knows it must be still warm but it’s like she can’t feel it recently, and she knows it won’t get better. They keep telling stories while walking, and she smiles, and she laughs, and when home is finally in view again she notices Salome, watching them from afar and she knows what her daughter thinks. Alex hasn’t smiled and laughed like that for months, years maybe, since she knew about her disease and the doctors informed her she won’t survive it. Of course she loves her daughter and she fights for her, but Matt... Matt reminds her all she was and all she had, but also all she had missed. It feels good to be able to pretend, just a day, that everything is possible again and that she can fix her mistakes.

The illusion can’t last though, and finally Matt says he’s going to leave. Alex feels something tighten in her chest and she thinks she must skip a heartbeat. But she doesn’t want him to notice and so she smiles anyway as she says goodbye.

“It was nice to see you again, and...” She feels her voice trembling a bit and she’s not sure she’ll be able to stay as strong as she wants before he leaves. She doesn’t have much time to doubt though, because he cuts her off before she can even finish her first sentence.

“I would like to come back. Tomorrow. If I don’t bother you of course. Or later. I know I didn’t announce myself and I can understand if you can’t.”

She gapes at him while he keeps talking and she doesn’t even understand what he’s saying. She watches his lips move but it’s like the words can’t enter her ears. It’s not until he finally stops and pain shows up on his face that she finally comes back to her.

“No, no,” she blurts out, “I mean, yes, come, you don’t bother me at all, I...” She takes a pause to breath and tries to smile, finally calmer as she breaths out the rest, “I will be very happy if you come back. But don’t you... Don’t you have something else to do, I don’t want to take your time or...”

He smiles bright then, “You don’t Kingston. I have nothing more important than you.” She feels warmth spreading through her whole body then, and she wonders if she doesn’t blush. She really can’t say anything against such an argument.

“Okay,” she simply agrees and there’s something shining in his eyes as he bends, kissing her on her cheek.

“See you soon.”

He winks at her a last time before going out, and Alex can hear him saying goodbye to Salome, before the door creaks and in a second he’s gone.

“You want to explain to me what’s going on?” Salome asks her when she’s back in the living room. Alex doesn't reply but sighs and shakes her head. What can she answer, when she doesn’t know herself?

x.

Matt comes the next day, as promised. He arrives early in the morning with a box full of fresh scones that smell like heaven. Half an hour later there is sugar spread all over the table and the floor, and jam everywhere, including Alex’s nose and a long trace from his cheek to his ear.

“Oh my god,” Salome sighs when she enters the room and finds them.

“It’s her fault,” Matt instantly accuses Alex and she protests.

“You began to play with the jam!”

“And you threw sugar at me.”

“I was only defending myself.”

“Okay, stop it. You two look like five-year-olds. Tell me you left me one of those sweets.” Salome bends to look into the box and Alex takes advantage of her position and the fact that she doesn’t see them anymore to stick her tongue out to Matt. He throws a crumb at her and she can’t help but laugh. A second later they are both fighting again and even Salome giggles with them. If Alex can’t remember when she last laughed before Matt came yesterday, she suddenly realizes she hasn’t seen her daughter smile like that for a long time either. Matt isn’t only good for her, it also helps her not-so-little girl.

The sunny weather of the day before has been replaced by a heavy rain and so they all stay in. They play cards; Matt cheats during the first round to let Alex win, so she cheats during the second one to lets him win. Both their strategies fail and Salome ends up winning twice, a smug smile on her face indicating she has been clearly aware of their little game.

During the afternoon they watch the television and laugh at the most stupid program they can find. Soon Alex feels tired though and she feels comfortable enough, between Matt’s warm body pressed against her and the reassuring sound coming out of the screen, to let her eyes close and  she falls asleep.

When she wakes up she’s laid down on the couch with a blanket on her shoulders.The television is turned off and the sun has almost disappeared outside, but there are voices and light coming from the kitchen. She sits up and sighs, trying to put her hair back in place as she wonders how much time she has been asleep. She has never napped before, but since she has been ill and the disease got worse it’s like she’s been constantly exhausted and sleeping all the time. She doesn’t even try to fight it anymore.

She doesn’t move for a while, listening to Matt and Salome talking and apparently trying to make dinner. Those two were good friends in the past, always understanding each other better than Alex could. She thought it was due to Matt’s character, which was closer to a child’s than an adult. She’s amazed that now that they are both grown-ups they still get along so well.

Matt’s face appears in the door-frame and smiles at her. Even from where she is she can see the stains spread on his shirt - at least today he has changed his suit for plain shirt and jeans, and it's still better than the mud covering his trousers yesterday.

“Hungry?” he asks and she nods, curious to see what they have cooked (or tried to cook at least). At the end it happens that it’s simply pasta with a sauce and the stains on Matt’s clothes are just drops of the tomatoes that have splashed as he cut them.

And so spends the second day. And the third is almost the same. As the following one. Matt keeps coming, everyday, always with sweets or flowers. He is always smiling, whatever happens, and it’s good to have someone so happy after all the months of fear and pain they have been through.

One morning though, maybe one week or so after Matt first came, there’s something different His smile is not as bright as usual and he doesn’t talk much, like something is disturbing him. Alex doesn’t ask what’s happening, like he doesn’t ask when she’s wrong, and she knows he’ll tell her eventually when he’s ready, as she knows she does. Inside of her though she makes hypotheses, and what seems more logical to her is that it’s time for him to finally go, and he’s looking for a way to tell her. She doesn’t have to wait long to know.

“Alex?” he finally asks her when they’re alone, his brow furrowed and his tone grave and she feels like maybe it’s more serious that she thought. She swallows and nods, waiting for whatever horrible thing he has to tell her.

“Salome told me. You...” he stops then but those words are enough for her to guess what’s following. “You don’t take your treatment anymore.”

“No, I don’t.” Her voice doesn’t tremble and she’s calmer now that she knows what they are talking about. It’s easier than what she has expected.

“Why?”

She perfectly knows why she’s doing that, and already have this conversation more than once, with her daughter, with her doctors, with the few friends and relatives who know. She’s sure of her decision and there’s no way he’s going to change her mind. She breaths in, deeply, before answering.

“You must know by now, and if Salome hasn’t told you, you have guessed by yourself. It can’t be cured, what I have. Whatever I tried, the issue will be the same and I’m perfectly aware of that. I don’t see what a treatment can bring me.”

“It can give you time,” he murmurs, and she can barely believe they have that conversation right now, while he has constantly eluded the question of her health since the first day. But all she can see on his face is pain, and somehow it’s better like that. He isn’t trying to change her mind like she must have been afraid of. He just tries to understand, even if he knows that the answer can’t do anything but hurt him.

“More time, yes. But what kind of time? It would be more pain, and more dizziness, and more fatigue, and maybe I couldn’t even be here at home. That is not what I want.”

Matt doesn’t reply anything, and clearly avoids looking at her as he seems distracted by something on the parquet. He stays silent for long heavy seconds and Alex waits, a bit anxious of what he’s thinking.

“Matt, if you...” she finally tries but he stops her, turning suddenly his head to look straight into her eyes.

“I’m going to stay. I mean, not only a week or two. I’m gonna stay until... until you don’t need me anymore. I want to.”

Alex gaps at him, at it is clearly not the reaction she has been expecting. Not at all. “No! Matt you can’t do that!”

“You don’t want me to?”

“I...” Of course she can’t say she doesn’t want to have him here, everyday, but it would be selfish and even childish to admit it. “This is not the point. You can’t. You have your own family and friends, and a career to think about. You can’t just let them down like that for me.”

“I can.” There’s too much confidence in his voice and she doesn’t know what to do. She can’t hope he’ll be there until the end like he’s promising. She has to convince him not to, because... because they’re both grown-up and grown-ups don’t let go of everything to take care of a friend they haven’t seen for twelve years. The fact that the friend in question almost become something more years ago doesn’t change anything.

“No!”

“Unless you kick me out, which I doubt you do because you want it as much as I do, I _am_ staying.”

He takes her hand and smiles and how can she find the strength to say no, again, when all she’s been wanting for those years is suddenly here? So she surrenders in a sob, and his smile grows brighter. He holds her as she cries and tells her everything is alright, and she knows it’s the beginning of something different.

When she can breathe and talk again she wipes her tears away and asks, because she feels the need to.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

He cups her face and looks into her eyes, and she can’t help but shiver at his words. “Because I let you run away once... But I promise you, I won’t this time.”

x.

_She didn’t know how it had happened, but suddenly Matt was kissing her, or she was kissing him, or both. She couldn’t remember who began it and who let it grow, and she felt like she didn’t care - which is not right, because she should. She should care about Matt kissing her like she’s the last thing on Earth, she should care about his hands roaming all over her body and under her clothes, she should care about the fact that she was doing exactly the same with him._

_“Matt, we can’t,” she finally gasped, but her body didn’t seem to agree, her leg already wrapped around his waist and her hands clutching at his shirt._

_“‘talk later,” he managed to mumble between hot kisses and she didn’t even try to fight. She let him walk them across the flight as clothes vanished, until they finally fell on the bed and she knew she had wanted it as much as him._

_It was deep and passionate. All she could focus on was his hands on her skin and his lips on her lips and then he was inside of her and everything was perfect. She was vaguely aware of the moans escaping her mouth, the sweat covering their bodies more and more with each movement, and his hot breath against her neck, before it was too much and everything disappeared in an explosion of sensations._

_They stayed tangled up for a long time, nobody talking. Eventually their bodies cooled down and so did their minds, until the whole thing felt suddenly awkward. He was young and a brilliant career was waiting for him, while she was just an old woman that would only ruin his life. She told him, and he didn’t contradict her - maybe he should have. Maybe everything would have been different then. But she told him they couldn’t do that, that there were only a few days on set and then she would be gone and that would be all. He agreed, and she left. She knew she had run away, from him and his feelings, by obligation maybe but mostly by fear. How would she not be afraid, when she knew what happened had not only been lust, but something more, something bigger, something she couldn’t afford?_

_She thought it had been the right thing to do. It must have been. It has to be, because how could she live with that otherwise?_

x.

She feels better after that conversation. It’s not only because she knows he’s going to be here - he has even settled home, in the guest room next to hers - it’s also because he makes her laugh and makes her smile and gives her the want to wake up every day and keep fighting whatever happens. She begins to do things she hasn’t done for months, holds better on her feet. It’s just a parenthesis in the long process of her disease and she knows it will soon get worse again, but she wants to take everything she can. Walk a few steps. Sit on the terrace on sunny days. Eat like a normal person. Nap under a tree. They even prepare a picnic once, and she carries the basket on her lap while Matt pushes the wheelchair and Salome brings the big gingham sheet. The settle in the middle of the pasture with the horse running around them and trying to get as many pieces of bread it can. It’s warm and sunny, and she wishes the day would never stop.

She can’t stop time passing by though, and the day is soon over, and the day after, and the day after. Summer is gone in a blink of an eye and then comes autumn, cold and grey. The days are smaller and the nights are longer, and when it rains it’s like there’s no day at all. She feels frozen all the time and she is slowly losing all the abilities she has gained in the previous weeks. Every day is like a new war and every movements like a battle, and she won’t be the one to win this struggle.

One day she feels like she can’t bear the situation anymore. She wants to stop and she wants to die, but she wants to lie and she wants to go on, and she’s not sure what she really wishes exactly. The only thing she knows, she’s not going to step out of bed today, neither to wash or to eat or to walk. She can’t. Not anymore. Not today. Salome tries for an hour to make her change her mind but she won’t listen, deeply hidden under the covers and silent as a tomb.

A moment later and she hasn’t moved, when the door of her room opens again and she prepares herself for another attempt from her daughter. But instead the sheet are lifted and she gasps in surprise. Before she can protest Matt climbs at her side and covers them back. In the dark and warm space created he just wraps an arm around her and hugs her.

“It’s okay,” he simply states and she nods, but at the same time she can’t stop the tears. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s held, or because he doesn’t try to fight, or because it’s the first time someone promises her she’ll be fine - and it’s not a lie. He doesn’t tell her she’ll suddenly cure and live endlessly, he simply tells her that it’s alright. She can lie in bed and cry, she can stay all day long in her room and grump. It’s okay. He’s there holding her like he has been for the past few weeks, and still will.

So she cries in his arms for a long time, and he strokes her back and kisses her head and wipes away her tears. He never asks her what’s wrong exactly and she’s grateful to him, because it’s nothing, it’s everything, and she’s not sure she will have something to say, and she’s not sure she will be able to stop once she begins to list the reasons. She cries and he just holds her.

After a while she stops sobbing he doesn’t move, and lets her decide when she’s ready to go out of bed and face whatever is waiting for her today. He will do that, every time she needs in the next weeks, calming her, shushing her, taking care of her, and it makes her feel a bit better.

x.

A couple of weeks later, Matt’s reading and Alex’s curled up next to him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It’s that kind of day when she doesn’t feel like doing anything but staying in bed all day long with her duvet and a good cup of tea to warm her up. Matt tries to distract her as best as he can but she doesn’t really pay attention to what he’s reading. She’s not sure she’s even really conscious, she feels like she’s half sleeping, just aware of the warmth slowly spreading through her body and the sound of his voice in what seems like a long distance.

Something changes that makes her take conscious of the world again. She stretches and opens her eyes, to discover Matt staring at her. His book is closed on his lap and she wonders how much time he’s been looking at her like that. He smiles as he realizes she’s awake and brushes a curl out of her face. He seems worried though, like he’s thinking too much about things he shouldn’t.

“Don’t you ever think,” he begins and she knows she’s right, “about all the things we could have done? We could have been?”

“No,” she replies and it’s not a lie. Of course she has been tempted everyday since he’s been here, but she doesn’t want to. What’s the point of thinking about what _could_ have been, when what _is_ is different? She knows, she made her choice years ago, to define what they were not, and never will be, it’s too late to regret it and change her mind.

He doesn’t seem to have the same opinion and continues his “what if” hypothesis. “We have missed so many things... maybe everything would have been different.”

“Or not.”

“Or not.” He repeats her sentence like it’s an universal truth but there’s no bitterness in his voice. His eyes wander all across the room and she knows what he’s doing - imagining, changing, dreaming. But there is no regrets in his gaze, just... curiosity maybe. It’s like he’s creating a whole new world inside his head, where she hasn’t run away, when he hasn’t let her - where they would have lived together and... Maybe that would have been the only change.

She finds herself playing that stupid mind game against her will too, but she’s surprised because it doesn’t hurt. It even feels good to imagine this world, too perfect to be real but...

“We would have had the house. I’m not sure you would have let me choose anyway”, he says and she smiles.

“You’re right. I would have forced you to buy the house. And the horse too.”

“I don’t complain about the horse. The horse is pretty cool. Maybe we could even have another one. A whole herd. And more hens and chicks. Hens and chicks are cool.”

“Yes.” She looks outside, at the almost leafless trees swayed by the wind in the cold November, and far away she knows there’s the barn. She imagines it could be bigger and hosting more animals, and there would be Matt’s boots, Matt’s saddle and Matt’s riding hat next to hers, waiting. It seems perfect.

She sighs and Matt wraps an arm around her, holding her closer. For a long while neither of them talk, lost in their minds as they share a reality that will never be.

x.

Matt’s disappearing from public life doesn’t go unnoticed for long, and the press finally finds him. For a moment there are journalists spending entire days in front of the house, hoping to catch a picture or hear some words. They stay home, close the blinds and cut the phone - by chance it’s raining almost every day and they don’t regret being shut away inside. There are a few articles on the press, but they ignore and burn them, feeling better each time the papers disappear into the flames.

Alex asks Matt if he’s sure he wants to keep staying with her despite what’s happening. He assures her he does, more than ever, and pleases her not to ever ask him again. So she never does.

Eventually something more scandalous that Matt’s taking care of his dying ex costar happens, or maybe people get tired, and the press disappears. It feels better without all those vultures turning around them.

Nothing important happens after. It’s the same routine. Good days. Bad days. Waking up, eating, napping, reading, napping, sleeping - and all the same again. The most difficult is to ignore the facts that the naps get longer and the meals smaller as Alex gets weaker.

But nothing important changes, and so pass the days, one by one.

x.

One day she wakes up and she knows.

“It’s gonna snow.”

Matt looks by the window, but all he can see is the blue sky and a cold sun of December shining.

“It’s not what they said.”

“Believe me, it’s gonna snow.”

She smiles and he doesn’t fight. She’s been weaker recently and he doesn’t want to argue about the weather.

The morning is quiet. There are a few talks and many glances outside. By ten o’clock the first clouds appear, grey and heavy, while wind begins to whistle around the house.

After lunch Salome has to leave for an appointment far from home, and she won’t be back before sunset.

“I love you honey.”

“Love you too.” She kisses her mother on her cheek, asks Matt to take care of her and disappears after a last creak of the front door.

Less than an hour later, Alex suddenly proclaims she wants to go out.

“Are you mad, it’s bloody freezing outside, and you said it was about to snow!”

“Matt. I want to go out.”

This second time her voice is so confident and determined he shivers, and doesn’t dare to refuse her.

She’s already cold inside despite the heating and her many layers of clothes, so getting prepared to go out is like planning an Arctic expedition. Fleece and coat and shawl, scarfs and woolen hat, gloves and mittens, and finally when all the only visible things are the hem of her nose and her eyes, they’re ready.

She just wants to sit on the terrace and refuses to use the wheelchair, and so Matt finds himself half-carrying her through the living-room and the sunroom until they sit down on a bench a few steps from the backdoor.

He was right, it’s freezing outside but she likes the fresh air. Her lungs are painful, hurt by the cold but she feels better. She was almost suffocating inside.

Matt wraps an arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder. The beating of his heart is barely audible through the clothes but she knows it’s here, regular, strong, comforting.

They sit still for a while, the wind stronger around them and she can feel Matt shivering against her. Her own body trembles too but she doesn’t care.

“Alex, are you sure...”

“Wait. It’s coming.”

They wait. A minute. Two. Finally, the first snowflake appears, almost unreal, twirling and dancing around them before landing on the floor and vanishing. More follow, repeating the same process before there are so many they don’t melt anymore but remain, concrete, and everything becomes white.

Alex lifts her head and breaths as deeply as she can but it hurts. It’s like her lungs are freezing, her heartbeat is lighter in her chest and she’s not sure her blood still rush in her veins.

“Matt?”

“Yes?”

If he notices the weird sound coming out of her throat as she speaks, he acts like nothing is different.

“You’ll tell Salome I’m sorry.”

His arm around her stiffens and she can feel him taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

She shivers, and takes a few seconds to gather her strengths before speaking again.

“I...”

Before she can tell anything he turns and puts a finger on her mouth.

“Don’t. Please. I know.”

His eyes are full of tears and his voice trembles, but his finger is firm against her lips. He finally removes it and she immediately tries to tell him again.

“But...”

This time she has no choice but to stop talking as he cups her face and shushes her with the pressure of his lips against hers. She closes her eyes and remembers, the first day he came back and she thought it would be the best way to go. It is now, isn’t it? So she sighs and gives him her last breath, and she’s just aware of the warmth of her lips and the cold of his tears on her cheek. Then she’s gone.

At the end, it is perfect.

**_the end_ **


End file.
